


Birthday thoughts

by Mybaderbrainday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Stanford Era, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:59:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mybaderbrainday/pseuds/Mybaderbrainday
Summary: Tonight all his senses are on edge. His body is crawling with restless ants and the sheets feel like they have a four-hundred thread count of barbed wire instead of cotton. He tosses them to the side once again, as if only the stuffy and stale bedroom air against his skin can soothe his sweaty agony.It doesn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an experimental thing. One month too late, but hopefully you guys get it anyway! 
> 
>  
> 
> Beta work by [Katalexander](http://archiveofourown.org/users/katalexander/pseuds/katalexander)

Sam sighs out loud out into the dark dorm room. The wheezing sounds of his lungs startle him slightly, his ears so accustomed to only the humming noise of the air conditioning down the hallway. A noise he doesn’t usually pick up but tonight is different.

Tonight all his senses are on edge. His body is crawling with restless ants and the sheets feel like they have a four-hundred thread count of barbed wire instead of cotton. He tosses them to the side once again, as if only the stuffy and stale bedroom air against his skin can soothe his sweaty agony.

It doesn't.

He turns onto his side. Peeks at the phone on the bedside table where a thin shred of blinding white light in the charcoal darkness is visible. The phone still glows with its tell-tale lights against the wood where it is lying face-down. That means it has been less than a minute since he checked it last. Or rather, it means it has been less than a minute since he woke it last by pressing his contacts and scrolling down to “D”.

He has done this countless times already tonight; Started to type a message just to delete it seconds later, John’s threats still ringing in his ears after all these years.

“If I ever catch you two communicating again, I’ll make sure you’ll get kicked out of that fancy school of yours, and I’ll take Dean with me to Alaska, somewhere you’ll never find him.”

Sam still gets a burning knot of agony and shame in his stomach from recalling that afternoon. He still doesn’t understand how John found out. There wasn’t anything to find out. Nothing happened.  

A father’s intuition perhaps.

He sits up, picks up the phone once again. He starts typing, heart pounding in his ears drowning out the disturbing thoughts whirling around in his brain, but he knows he won’t do it.

He is too much of a coward, too afraid of repercussions. Too afraid that pushing that send button will mean that he’s possibly never going to see Dean again, but it would also mean that he hasn’t forgotten. Hasn't forgotten for one moment about the one person that fills his every waking moment with purpose. Just like he always has. This wasn’t only cognitive dissonance this was boarderline insanity.

Even though they haven’t communicated for over a year, he still has a feeling of that live-wire connection right to his brain and heart. He sometimes thinks he feels everything that happens to Dean as vividly as if it happened to himself.

Or at least he likes to think so.

It is the only explanation he has for the out-of-the-blue anxiety attacks, and the certainty that somewhere out there someone is thinking of him just as intensely as he himself is thinking of Dean.

It is the only explanation he has for the times he laid in bed, not really in the mood for anything other than sleep after a day hunching over his books.

When he suddenly feels an acute urge. His pulse picks up out of the blue, his groin tingling, and he feels his cock fill as if some external force was right there with him in that room.

He thinks it's Dean having sex that makes him feel this way. And he usually comes stroking himself, to the thoughts of his lips on him. Lips he has never tasted but could bring up in his mind as quickly and familiar as his own name. It is weird and he can’t explain it.

Maybe he doesn't want to explain it.

He wants to believe and have that weird connection all to himself. Doesn't want to over-analyse it and shred it to pieces with rationality. This is all he had left of him. That, and the feeling of mourning and loss. He even started to embrace the empty agonizing feeling of loss these days because the pain somehow reminds him that he hasn’t forgotten.

Fading memories are all he has left of Dean, and if the pain of missing him was all he could have. He’d take that pain over forgetting about Dean altogether.

The pain of it felt kind of fitting, too. A fitting punishment for the sickness and the wrongness of it all. No matter how wrong or twisted his feelings were, he was still devastatingly heartbroken. He nourished his heartbreak to the point of insanity. He knew that.

He knew that he had to let him go, for both their sakes. He’d tried. He’d really tried.

But then he got that blank text for Christmas. It turned his world upside down. He wasn’t able to sleep for weeks. He also hadn’t been happier in over a year.

He sighs to himself again, puts the phone down, display up this time. Sits and stares at it until the lock screen comes on, informing him:

“24th of January 3:42 AM”

 


End file.
